A love that lasts is one of those things that many people seek and are never able to find. I was feeling a bit verklempt Sunday morning as my week started and morphed into being just like any other week during COVID -19 self isolation. Ugh. I was sitting on the couch and my eyes found a little blue box holding a small Bible that was my mom’s.
It was a Bible that was given to her on her wedding day by my Daddy. I carried on my wedding day 31 years later. When we went through her belongings when we moved her out of her apartment to Memory Lane the siblings had a sorting party and this little gem came home with me. I stuck it on a bookcase and forgot about it. Until Sunday morning when I took it down and leafed through it.
So as I turned some of the pages it appears that it was not a Bible that my mom actually used for daily use but one that was more of an occasion Bible. There are no bookmarks or underlined passages. It was kept in its original box and was most likely stored with important items. But as I opened it I found 2 sheets of paper folded up in the front in a place of honor. A poem written by my Daddy to my mother before their wedding. I am not sure if he read it at their wedding or not but here it is in his own handwriting. What a treasure.
Suddenly those feelings of sadness and isolation vanished and I reflected on my heritage and the love that my parents shared. Not everyone has their love of a lifetime but my parents did. The sad thing is that their lifetime together was shorter than we had all hoped it would be. These days my mom looks at pictures of her husband and says “He was a good one, wasn’t he?” Yes, he was. If truth be told she is one of the good ones, too. I wish I could tell her that today. Hopefully soon I will be able to make that trip to Ohio and tell her in person. Until then I will cherish these memories and know that I come from a long line of love.